


Finding My Way

by YanzaDracan



Category: Actor RPF, Kane (Band), Leverage RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanzaDracan/pseuds/YanzaDracan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding My Way

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own them. They belong only to themselves. This is a work of fiction. I'm not making any money.

He’d lost his compass. 

Somewhere between Argentina, Tennessee and California, he’d gotten lost. He tried to remember where he last saw the compass, but … 

He knew he had it during the KANE tour. Everything clicked. Even the trains ran on time. He and Steve even managed to find time to do what lovers do in Europe. They’d written some of the girliest songs ever. They’d laughed ‘til their ribs ached trying to one up each other, and they’d written some of their best stuff. 

Steve asked for help naming his record label. Christian nipped his ear and told him to put lion in the title since Steve was a Leo. He was a smokin’ babe, and had this mane of pretty blond hair and Smoking Lion was born. They’d had to pay for the table when Steve tackled him over it, and proceeded to show Chris his appreciation. Everything was perfect. 

He was fairly certain he had the compass in Argentina. They didn’t see each other, but they talked… a lot. They’d been excited when Columbia Nashville was interested in KANE, and could he come to Nashville after filming wrapped. 

He kinda thought he still had the compass when he signed with Columbia. He thinks he lost it about the time the ink dried. Suddenly there were too many bands called KANE. Change the name. Change the sound from stripped down country/rock and roll to over-produced fluffy Nashville. ‘Yes we know that Mr. Carlson was integral to KANE, but royalties, contractual obligations…blah, blah, woof, woof’. 

So he did what he always did when he felt lost. He erected his **“Christian fucking Kane”** armored shell around his heart. By the time he got to LA, he had girded his loins for a siege. 

Steve picked him up at the airport, and for a few days they immersed themselves in “them”, shutting out the world. He became Scarlett O’Hara until reality made him her bitch after Steve asked if he could drop him at the airport tomorrow. There was a glitch with a couple of his album tracks, and he needed to get to Vegas and redo them. 

Christian pulled out Black Jack, and told Steve what Columbia had said after the contracts were signed. KANE ended with a whimper, and when he dropped Steve at the airport the next morning, he was afraid that maybe they would too. 

He stayed busy. So busy that he almost blew off **_Leverage_**. After all, **“Christian fucking Kane”** wouldn’t play some pantywaist who wore wire rim glasses and drank tea, but a kick in the pants from his agent, got him to stick his head out of his shell long enough to get the part. 

Between Nashville, Los Angeles, movie and promotional obligations, he didn’t have time to think or feel or miss his life or... 

When he was in LA, Steve was in Vegas. When he was in Vegas, Steve had a gig. He thought if no one said the words, they weren’t lost. 

Finally there was only **_Leverage_** and the music. The day after the wrap party, he was back in Nashville recording the last few tracks for the album. 

It was a good day. **_Leverage_** got picked up and his album almost finished. There was a pang around his heart that Steve wasn’t there. He couldn’t break the habit of expecting Steve when he turned to share something. 

Then the bubble burst. ‘Corporate restructuring, reallocation of assets, sorry about your contract, you can have your music if you sign here, pay this…blah, blah, woof, woof’. All that he had given, hidden and discarded for Nashville, this was a blow that cracked his protective shell. **“Christian fucking Kane”** left the office, spine stiff with anger, his agent mouthing platitudes and reassurances. 

An hour later, Christian Kane climbed in his pickup, headed west looking for his damn compass. 

By the time he got to Oklahoma, he was too exhausted to go any further. He called his mama to let her know where he was and that he was going off the radar for awhile. He shut off the outside world and let the prairie breeze soothe his weary soul. 

On the seventh day of his exile, he was out exploring his property. When he came back in sight of the house, something shiny reflected in the sun. His breath caught in his throat and his heart swelled. Finally, after all these months of searching, there it was…there was his compass. 

With strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, a beloved face buried against his neck, and growling words of admonition in his ear, he was no longer lost.

~ Fini ~


End file.
